


he's as complex as the universe

by thefloatingcity



Category: Kill Your Darlings (2013)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, allen loves lucien too much, baker!lu, did i mention gays, gays, poetry-reciting gays, this is all really really gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefloatingcity/pseuds/thefloatingcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucien's smile returned, radiating a warmth that made Allen's insides curl around, another sigh escaping his lips. "I'm glad you like it. I made those." His entire fucking voice was like a aura of pure colors, a sunset and sunrise personified, calm and soothing, the perfect voice he always wanted to hear but never had, and with a weightless feeling in his chest, he knew he wanted to be with him for the rest of his life. </p>
            </blockquote>





	he's as complex as the universe

**Author's Note:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
>  -a novel by me

If there was anything Allen loved the most, was sweets and pastries. He had a sweet tooth (more like sweet teeth, he probably had cavities from how much sweets he devours on a daily basis), and it wasn't surprising from any friends to see some candy stocked in the cabinets, in his dresser drawers, in his own pockets in his coats. He was fairly pleased when he discovered a new bakery being built about ten minutes away from his home, and thankfully, his job payed him enough that he could pay for a good, large bag of pastries. 

The shop was casual, carefree, and decked with pastel hues and white frames. Windows were arched, framed with baby-blue tints, even the sky-lights were tinted a pastel-green, which left the sunlight a gentle, filtered color of a washed out green. When Allen first opened the glass door, his nostrils became overwhelmed gently with the sweet svents of richly thick hot chocolate, cooking cupcakes, fresh smells of buttercream, cheese, and chocloate. God, he was getting a culinary orgasm.

He made his way to the glass displays, staring at the assortment of delicacies. Crumbling apple pies, topped with melting vanilla ice cream, bakewell puddings whipped with almonds and raspberries, cannoli's, donuts, enlarged cupcakes, everything he wanted, was there. "So, what do you want?" A voice spoke, shaking Allen out this goddamn dream, only for him to sink back in that stupor. Standing ahead him was a bewitching—no, stunning—man. Slim, lean, a soft face with dark half-moons circling underneath his unnaturally glowing cerulean eyes, blond hair neatly tousled. Oh, fuck. 

Allen dissolved into a benevolent, but nevertheless nervous, laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "Can I just—buy the whole thing?" His tone was reeking of a taunting-ness, but he was really close to wasting his money on all those delicious smelling treats.

"O-oh yeah, I'll just have a peppermint-flavored coffee."

Lucien nodded once more, prepping up the drink, questioning Allen the entire time, considering the shop was almost a deathly quiet. "So you live close by? Saw you walking." He swung himself across the displays, sliding the plate and cup on the table, before taking the seat across from him, much to Allen's surprise. He nodded, fingers trembling almost as he dug into the food, nearly moaning as he took a bite. 

"This is really fucking good—pardon my language—but goddamn this is like heaven food-wise." 

Lucien's smile returned, radiating a warmth that made Allen's insides curl around, another sigh escaping his lips. "I'm glad you like it. I made those." His entire fucking voice was like a aura of pure colors, a sunset and sunrise personified, calm and soothing, the perfect voice he always wanted to hear but never had, and with a weightless feeling in his chest, he knew he wanted to be with him for the rest of his life. 

"I- woah. You do know how to cook, jesus christ, kudos to you, Lucien," Allen praised highly, watching the sweet pink color seep into Lucien's cheeks, the smile widening ever-so-slightly.

"Mon chéri, you pronounced my name wrong—" (He catched the quick, almost scared glance on Allen's face) "—no harm done, don't have that look. It's pronounced 'Lu-shin'." His voice purred the first tw words easily, like French was his first language, a reassuring squeeze of the wrist comforting Allen. Despite his cool, calm-like demeanor, he was screaming in the inside, screaming for being called his goddamn darling. He's gay, he's gay, he's gay, he's gay, he's gay. 

"I'm sorry—and, damn my curiosity but—how come your working at the counter?" 

"Oh, it's cause I came here way to early. I cook before the day of work so I already prepared everything. And since your the only person up at these ungodly hours, I only have to worry about you." A baiting grin that made his cheeks dimple made Allen's heart swell and explode and the need to cup his cheeks, to press his lips against the blond's plump, naturally tinted pink lips, were so large, it was difficult to control his wanting-to-spring muscles. 

"Eat some with me, I'm not that hungry." He slid the plate more half-way across the table, Allen's dark eyes lighting up with each passing second, feet tapping nervously against the clean, checkered floors. 

"Do you think because you are virtuous, that there that there shall be no more cakes and ale?" Lucien skillfully recited, a poem, a goddamn poem, of all things this cute baker could be, he knows poetry. Could Lucien be any better? (yes, Allen awsnered, he probably has a big dick).

"You like poetry?"

"Give me someone, anyone."

"Louise Bogan."

Lucien recited a unseen poem, his voice soft amongst the silence, amongst the humming of the machines, a thoughtful expression overcoming his usual-solemn beautied face. When he spoke, he spoke greatly, spoke magnificently, like he read it countless times, like he knew every word ever since he was a child.   
"Beyond, a garden,  
Lie with quilled dahlias and the shepherd's crook,  
Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,  
Less at its features than its darkening frame  
Now that I have your face by heart, I look  
There, in insolent ease  
The lead and marble figures watch the show  
Of yet another summer loath to go  
Although the scythes hang in the apple trees.   
Now that I have your face by heart, I look.  
Now that I have your voice by heart, I read  
In the black chords upon a dulling page  
Music that is not meant for music's cage,  
Whose emblems mix with words that shake and bleed,  
The staves are shuttled over with a stark  
Unprinted silence In a double dream  
I must spell out the storm, the running stream beat's too swift,  
The notes shift in the dark  
Now that I have your voice by heart, I read  
Now that I have your heart by heart, I see  
The wharves with their great ships and architraves;  
The rigging and the cargo and the slaves  
On a strange beach under a broken sky,  
O not departure, but a voyage done!  
The bales stand on the stone; the anchor weeps  
Its red rust downward, and the long vine creeps  
Beside the salt herb, in the lengthening sun  
Now that I have your heart by heart, I see."

Allen sighed again, his face clear of any emotion, heart swelling more and more and more and more until he felt his body float out into the space, to see the beauty of space but instead he saw Lucien because Lucien was the goddamn universe, he was as complex and interesting as the galaxies. And then, and now, he found himself reciting a poem he never heard of. Why? Because he made it.   
"Beautiful is he, with eyes brighter than the blazing fire in the sky  
Wonderful is he, with hair as blond as the clean sand,   
Gentle is he, with a voice softer than a smooth, clean pebble  
Gorgeous is he, with a smile that was brighter, more marvelous than the mysteries of the universe." 

Lucien watched him, with a odd look about him, like he ate something wrong and Allen regretted it, he scared him, he scared him off because he was too goddamn quick with his affectionate side, his heart finally deflated, his high feeling of pure bliss seemed to dissolve and the veil of pleasure melted into a anxious expression, fingers shaking, lips dry. 

"That was one of the greatest poems of all time." And his voice wavered, like no one had ever done such a sweet thing, and Allen stared at him for a while, blinking slowly at him, like a cat showing a love for it's owner. 

 

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ 

 

Allen's fridge and cabinets carried more assortment of pastries as the days passed by. He couldn't help it; the days he was able to catch Lucien's eye always made him leave the bakery with such a love-inflated heart and dreams floating across his head in a hazy moment. Talking to him left him in such a good mood, and everytime he did, he always learned something new about the blond boy. 

His full name was Lucien Carr, he was twenty-two years old, attended a really really prestigious college, he was a poet and a baker, and lived alone. Best of all; he was gay. He was charming, he was charismatic, he was stunning, he was complex, he was interesting, he was talented, he was likeable. 

It wasn't a harmless crush anymore, it was something more infinitely powerful—love. Love. Something that could ruin someone's life, but make it better at the same time. He pined for Lucien, he wanted to kiss him, to hold him close and run his fingers across his chest and hair, he wanted to keep him close forever and never ever let him go. He even got a nickname; Ginsy. Ginsy and Lu. Lu and Ginsy.

They were at the river when it happened. It was such a beautiful day, such a wonderous, gorgeous, bewitching day that made Allen think intently of Lucien all day when he caught the weather. Since the store hadn't opened that day, he jovially invited Lucien to a picnic at the lake, to go swimming and overall have a nice day (mainly he wanted to show him his love). They had a better time than expected, in honesty. 

They ate delicious sandwiches, drank wine and cheap champagne, talked about everything they could, allowed themselves to actually let themselves to be more free with their personality (Lucien was pretty dramatic and it was so cute to him). They wrestled, recited poetry, wrote poetry, read from a book of fairytales and commented about how wonderfully written it was, then talked some more. 

It came to the end—the blue sky mixing with a pastel, cotton-candy colored pink colors, flaming gold and white wispy streaks across the sky, the lake a pearly surface with a smooth blue color popping out amongst the evergreen-colored foliage and shrubbery. Honestly, in Allen's opinion, it was romantic. It reeked of romance, of beauty, the aesthetic of nature. 

And he found himself watching Lucien the entire time as the sun sunk back down into the horizon, away from their caring eyes. He watched the light sculpt his face, jawline more prominent as a cigarette dangled in his mouth, lips pursed to keep it tightly in, his eyes more crystal and clear, like the sky. He wasn't the universe, no, he may be as beautiful, but he matched the free, carelessness of the sky. Eyes etched from the sky, skin as smooth and soft (or so they looked) as the clouds, hair sun-kissed, lips as pink as the hue of the pinkness of the sunset. 

Allen wanted to cry of how wonderful Lucien was, he even felt the tell-tale water peering through his pupils, he felt himself release those tears, god he was a baby. His body was gently pushed forwards so Allen's body was lodged into Lucien's side, his face buried in the warm embrace of his coat, the tears soaking the coat. Why was he crying, why was he allowing himself to cry in front of his love, he was embarrassing himself like the dumbass he was. 

Lucien's arms absentmindly wrapped around the tiny male, pressing his lips against Allen's scalp, which tingled down his entire body, scalp exploding with electricity from that simple touch. The rest was a blurr, all he remembered was finding himself lean up, kissing Lucien, kissing him with every inch of his love he had for him, with every inch of loving-ness, of sweetness, of romanticism.

Allen made a reassuring sigh after he felt Lucien kiss back slowly, purposefully, and gently, back arching almost as he felt Allen's hands wander across his face, thumbs tracing his jawline, cheeks, forehead, before letting his hands cup his neck and he tilted his head for more access to the kiss. Lucien wrapped his arms loosely around his neck, kissing the day away as the sun evaporated, leaving the glowing moon it's wake. 


End file.
